Hermione Draconi
by evadnekapaneos
Summary: Dramione-Parody adapted from the 8th letter of Ovid's Heroides, Hermione Oresti. Contains a lengthy preface and an English translation.
1. Hermione Draconi

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Neither am I the heir of Ovid. -He lived two-thousand years ago. After all we know, you could be. -Oh, you really think so? -No. -Oh...

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I want to dedicate this story to every single wonderfully crazy being who has come across this story because they searched for fanfiction in Latin.

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A/N The basis for this text is the eighth _Heroides_ letter, the one written by Hermione, daughter of Helen and Menelaus, to her cousin and lover Orestes. You find an English translation of the text in Chapter Two that is based on Showerman's in the Loeb Classical Library edition (search for »Ovid Heroides Loeb Classical Library« on ; it's from 1914, but as a first introduction still useful; if you'd like to know more, feel free to PM me). I added the first two spurious verses ( _alloquor Hermione nuper fratremque uirumque / nunc fratrem. nomen coniugis alter habet_ ) as well as the verses 71f., considered equally spurious by Palmer. I marked all passages directly taken from Ovid in italics. And sorry about the verse-numbers, I tried prettier ways but could never save them.

The reason why I wanted to fit this text into the world of Harry Potter is simple. The letter was written by Hermione. I just had to change the recipient. And Dramione, one of the most popular ships, seemed to provide the most fun – not to forget the fact that »Draco« was a handy name for a Latin text. I should mention that I put metre over matter; it might not be very rewarding if you're just looking at the English text and expect any sense from it without taking in consideration that nearly all of my effort went into providing an approximately correct Latin text. I know that there are several metrical and grammatical awkwardnesses in the text (there is one Neologism, but I swear it's not as bad as _induperator_ , honestly Ennius!), but I really hope that it doesn't contain any horrifying mistakes (like Nominatiuus pro Accusatiuo); if you see something, please, please tell me.

I add a short introduction to the source text because it is not the most famous bit of literature in the world (though all letters are very good choices if you have to pick a text for an exam; they're quite short and humorously sappy). If you're familiar with it, you can skip this section and go straight to the text.

P. Ovidius Naso (43BC-17/18AD) was a Roman poet, most famous for his epic _Metamorphoses_. His earlier text are mainly elegiac, meaning they use always the same metre, the Elegiac couplet (made of a hexameter and a pentameter). Among these are the _Heroides_ (20-15BC?), a collection of fifteen letters (though especially the last is disputed whether it is actually Ovid's), written by women from Greek myth to their lovers like Penelope to Ulysses or Deianira to Hercules. The one I use here is sent by the Spartan princess Hermione to Orestes. Hermione is the daughter of Helen, the famous beauty who got abducted to Troy by Paris, and Menelaus, King of Sparta, who spent ten years besieging Troy to get his wife back. Hermione was promised by her grandfather to her cousin Orestes, the son of Clytemnestra and Agamemmnon of Argos, king of kings during the war. Yet, Menelaus gave her to Pyrrhus (=Neoptolemos), son of Achilles (the one with the heel and the arrow), before the walls of Troy. Hermione is anything but happy with this development and tries to convince her cousin to come and take her away. There's one more problem, Orestes has slain his mother to avenge his father who has previously been murdered by her. It is generally assumed that Ovid based the letter on Sophocles' and/or Pacuvius' lost tragedies »Hermione« and the »Nostoi«.

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»Ich weiß, was Dir an ihm gefällt:

Ich bin arm und er hat Geld!«

Die Ärzte, _Zu Spät_ (or Ron's opinion on Dramione)

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[ _Alloquor Hermione_ dudum hostilemque inimicum

 _nunc_ carum. _nomen coniugis alter habet._ ]

Arthuri Mustela, _animosus imagine_ matris,

 _inclusam contra_ uota _tenet_ mea ui.

 _quod potui renui, ne non inuita tenerer_ , (5)

 _cetera,_ uae, radii _non_ uetuere mei.

» _quid_ , Mustela, _facis_? tibi nolo nubere!« _dixi_ :

»aspernare uirum tu, scelerate, meum!«

 _surdior ille freto clamantem nomen_ amantis

 _traxit_ _inornat_ am _in_ paupera _tecta comis_. (10)

 _quid grauius_ Domino Tenebroso _serua tulissem_ ,

 _si_ pugna uictor cederet ille mea?

 _parcius_ Andromeden Bellatrix uulnerat illa,

 _cum_ prope Mortis Edo perderet ullum animal.

 _at_ , Draco, _cura mei si te pia tangit_ amantem, (15)

 _inice non timidas in tua iura manus_!

 _an si quis_ offendat priscam nobilitatem,

bella _feras_ , _rapta coniuge lentus eris_?

 _sit_ pater _exemplo_ , constans est coniugis tutor,

proditionis cui _causa puella fuit_ ; (20)

quid fecisset enim pater in discrimine tanto

si non sensisset qua pietate opus est?

 _nec_ ad iudicium remeaueris arbitrioque

spernere nole preco; supplico te, _ipse ueni_!

 _sic quoque eram repetenda tamen_ , _nec turpe_ Draconi (25)

frangere _pro car_ is impedimenta _tor_ is.

omnis inaequales dicat nos sanguine simus,

nostra tamen uerus corpora iungit amor.

 _uir_ ueluti, _precor_ , _uxori_ , _succure sorori_ ;

 _instant officio nomina_ tanta _tuo_. (30)

 _me tibi_ nunc donare et amare uolo te,

fortunae auctor ero sola animo ualido.

 _at_ iuuenis feci uitiis stultis grauibusque

Mustelae ergo sum nubere pollicita.

 _cum_ cognoscebam te diligere ast inopinans, (35)

primum ignorabam laedere te misera.

Lucius _ignoscet_ dispari sanguine amori;

 _succumbit_ poenis quod sequitur uitia.

 _quem_ uetuit sibi, tum filio _concedet amorem_.

prositque _exemplo mater amata_ tuo. (40)

 _tu_ me serua preco, crudelia uincula tolle,

me quibus obstrinxi sic grauiter tumulo.

 _ille_ patris rufos – et adhuc exterreo – crines;

atque comis flauis pulchrior es facie.

huic casa abundat paupertate inopi miseraque; (45)

est tibi magna domus splendida diuitiis.

fortis Sirius est frater matri deamanti,

quem tam respexi – dicere, a, nequeam.

 _nec_ gazis auroque cares, thesaurum habes immo;

numquam operas pateris. induit omne pater. (50)

 _materia uellem fortis_ fueris _meliore_ ;

nec fecisti tu, mi Draco, menda uolens.

totus eras, miser atque infelix, uerna parentum.

omnia quod fecis sors dedit atra tibi.

Mustela _increpat_ aerumnasque _in crimina uertit_ ; (55)

os uultusque suos ingerit _ille_ mihi.

audio quod dicit uenae _cum mente tumescunt_

 _pectoraque inclusis ignibus usta dolent_.

Mustela _coram_ defendo _nomen_ amantis,

at mihi deest uis, _nec ferus_ ramus _adest_! (60)

 _flere licet certe_ ; _flendo diffundimus iram_ ,

 _perque sinum lacrimae fluminis instar eunt_.

 _has semper solas_ habe _semperque profundo_ ;

 _ument incultae fonte perenna genae_.

sanguinis an _fato_ , _quod nostros errat in annos_ , (65)

Haemonidum pura uersa in imagine sum?

Andromedes fatum referam tibi quod bene notum

 _nec querar_ illud fas uersilipellem adamans.

atque memento Nigrorum aulaeum admodum adustum,

nominibusne Islae Phineos et Marii? (70)

tu scis formidasque lares non posse Nigrorum

uota probare mea; scilicet horreo eam,

illam uxorem quae in tuo amato animo tibi cara,

inde patris grauior, matrem ea nomen habet.

 _uix equidem memini_ , _memini tamen_ , ora decora, (75)

at oblitterem ego numquam etiam, Draco, te.

qui delegisti tibi me pater illacrimetur

qui nolet nurum adeo suscipere in lara me.

 _ipsa ego_ , desperata, hirsutos _scissa capillos_ ,

clamabo: »spera, ne dubita quia amas!« (80)

coniuge enim careo! nollem ex uictoribus essem!

uae mihi, Mustelae _praeda parata fui_!

si Dominus Tenebrosus uiueret atque agitaret

bella, uacarem illo liberaque essem ego nunc.

 _nec quondam placuit nec nunc placuisset_ amicis (85)

 _abducta uiduum coniuge flere uirum_.

 _quae_ stulte uatis iniuria _fecit iniquos_ ,

 _quodue mihi_ dubiae _sidus obesse querar_?

perlonge _sine matre fui_ ; pariter pater afuit.

 _et duo cum uiuant, orba duobus eram_. (90)

 _non_ te de uita docui, quae plena magorum

in multis annis, uae mea mater, erat;

non ostentabam magicen tibi quam efficiebam,

at tea restinxi uiscera, me miseram.

altera eras in parte a me longe aetheris alti, (95)

quamquam exoptaui te dare consilia.

sola egui matre atque sub imperio patiebar

Mustelae et basiis te dare non potui.

tandem repperi eam modo paucis ante diebus

atque remisi me meae genetrici adiens. (100)

 _pars haec una mihi_ , Draco _coniunx_ optimus haeret;

 _is quoque, ni pro se pugnat, ademptus eri_ t.

captam me Mustela tenet uictor, mea pestis.

 _hoc munu_ s! hac de re uici ego poculum hydrae!

 _cum tamen altus_ sol radiis lucentibus _instat_ , (105)

 _perfruor infelix liberiore malo_ ;

 _nox ubi me thalamis ululantem et acerba gementem_

 _condidit in maesto procubuique toro_ ,

 _pro somno lacrimis oculi funguntur obortis_ ,

 _quaque licet fugio sicut ab hoste uiro_. (110)

 _saepe malis stupeo rerumque oblita locique_

Mustelina manu membra inopi tetigi,

 _utque nefas sensi_ , _male corpora tacta relinquo_

 _et mihi pollutas credor habere manus_.

 _saepe_ que Mustelae _pro nomine_ te, Draco, clamo (115)

nomenque imploro, cordaque semper amo.

 _per genus impurum iuro generisque parentem_ ,

quae – dolor est ingens – afuit et peregre;

 _per_ diras quibus is consecrabit pater atre

coniugium quod non carcere supplicium est. (120)

 _aut ego praemoriar primoque exstinguar in aeuo_ ,

 _aut_ mulier tua _ero_ , tuque, Draco, mihi uir!


	2. Hermione to Draco

The translation is based on Showerman's from the previously mentioned edition though I made changes when it didn't fit my text. I should also point out that I made no attempt to form this into a poem and the structure I've chosen is only supposed to help the reader orient themselves in comparison to the Latin text.

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[I, Hermione, speak to you, once my enemy and foe,

Now dear. The name of husband another holds.]

The Weasel, Arthur's son, in self-will the image of his mother,

Holds me in durance against my wishes with force.

All that lay in my power I have done – I have refused consent to be held; (5)

Farther than that, woe is me, my wand could not hold him back.

»What art thou doing, Weasel? I do not want to marry you!« I cried.

»You, villain, scorn my husband!«

Deafer to me than the sea as I shrieked out the name of my lover,

He dragged me, all dishevelled, by the hair into his miserable hut. (10)

What worse my lot had I been made a slave under the Dark Lord

If he had parted a victor from my battle?

More merciful that Bellatrix when she harmed Andromeda,

When the Death Eaters almost destroyed every being.

But Draco, if your heart, my lover, is touched with any natural care for me, (15)

Lay claim to your right with no timid hand.

What! should anyone offend your ancient nobility,

Would you resort to war? and when your wife is stolen away will you be slow to move?

Let your father be your example, he teaches to be constant in wedlock,

To him a woman was cause for treachery. (20)

What would your father then have done opposite such a crime,

If he had not felt where his true duty lied?

Do not return to your prejudice and with your judgement

Do not scorn me, I beg you; I beseech you, yourself come!

Yet even thus I might well have been sought back, nor is it unseemly for Draco (25)

To destroy obstacles for love of his marriage-bed.

Everybody may say we are not equal in blood,

Our bodies are nevertheless bound by true love.

As a husband, succour your wife; as a brother, your sister!

Such bonds press you on to your duty. (30)

I want to give myself to you now, and I want to love you,

I will be the only cause of your fate through my brave soul.

But as a young girl I made stupid and heavy mistakes,

I am therefore sworn to wed the Weasel.

When I noticed that I loved you, but against my expectations, (35)

I, at first, did not know that I hurt you, poor me.

Lucius will pardon a love, unequal in blood;

He himself succumbs to punishment because he follows faults.

The love he forbid to himself he will then concede to his son;

And it will be of use the mother, loved by him, as your example. (40)

You, save me, I beg you, the cruel bonds lift,

With which I bound myself so gravely like a tomb.

That one has his father's red – and even now I'm horrified – hair;

And you are with blond hair prettier to look at.

With him the hut overflows with needy and miserable poverty; (45)

You own a big house, resplendent with riches.

Brave Sirius is the brother of the mother you love so dearly,

whom I so much honoured – to say, ah, I could not.

Nor are you without wealth and gold, indeed you have a treasure;

Never you suffer exertions. Your father has given you everything. (50)

I could wish that fortune would give you more excellent matter for courage;

Neither have you, my Draco, done faults willingly.

Completely you were, miserable and unhappy, the slave of your parents.

Everything that you've done gave a dark destiny to you.

The Weasel assails your name, and turns your sorrows to blame; (55)

That one forces upon me his mouth and face.

I hear what he says while my veins swell in my heart

And my breast burns with the pains of pent-up wrath.

I defend before the Weasel the name of my lover,

But have I no strength, and no wild wand is there! (60)

I can weep, at least. In weeping I let pour fourth my ire,

And over my bosom course the tears like a flowing stream.

These only I still have, and still do I let them gush;

My cheeks are wet and unsightly from their never-ending fount.

Can it be blood's fate, pursuing through the years even to our time, (65)

That I am changed to the likeness of a pure-blood witch?

Should I recount Andromeda's well known fortune to you,

Nor complain about that destiny that was in such favour of a were-wolf.

And think back to the tapestry of the Black, almost burnt,

With the names of Isla, Phineos and Marius? (70)

You know and fear that the spirits of the Blacks can not

Approve of my vows; indeed I fear her,

that woman who in your beloved soul is dear to you,

of them more than the father, she has the name of mother.

I scarcely remember, to be sure, yet remember I do the dear face, (75)

But I would likewise never obliterate, Draco you;

Your father would cry about you who have chosen me,

He who would not so far want to accept me into his house as a daughter.

As for myself, in desperation, tearing my bristly locks,

I will cry out: »Hope! Do not doubt that you love!« (80)

For I am bereft of my lord. If only I were not of the victors!

Woe is me, I have been left a ready prey for the Weasel!

If the Dark Lord were alive and had his mind set on

War, I would be without that one and I were free now.

'Twas not of yore a pleasure for friends nor is it now (85)

That an abandoned husband weeps for his stolen wife.

What injustice stupidly made the seers unfair?

Or what constellation shall I complain is hostile to my disbelieving self?

For a very long time I was without my mother; and so was my father absent.

Though the two were not dead, I was reft of both. (90)

I did not teach you about my life, that was full of magicians

For many years, woe is me, my mother;

I never showed you the magic that I worked,

But I abolished your memory, o my poor self.

You were far away from me in the other part of the world, (95)

Even though I yearned for you to give me counsel.

Alone I missed a mother and suffered under the command

Of the Weasel and I could not give you kisses.

At last I found her only a few days past

And I put myself back to my mother as I approached her. (100)

This one part, Draco, the best husband, is what remains to me;

He too, if he doesn't fight for himself, will be taken.

As a prisoner I am kept by the victorious Weasel, my plague.

That is my boon! For this reason I conquered the snake's cup!

Yet, when the sun stands high with his gleaming rays, (105)

My unhappy soul has the comfort of being more free in its wretchedness;

But when the dark of night has fallen and sent me to my chamber with wails and lamentation

For my bitter lot, and I have stretched myself prostrate on my sorrowful bed,

Then springing tears, not slumber, is the service of mine eyes,

And in every way I can I shrink from my mate as from a foe. (110)

Oft I am distraught with woe; I lose sense of where I am and what my fate,

And with needy hand have touched the Weasel's body,

But when I have waked to the awful act, I draw my hand from the base contact,

And look upon it as defiled.

And oft, instead of the Weasel's name I call for you, Draco, (115)

And I beseech your name and your heart I always love.

By my impure line I swear, and by the parent of my line

Who – the pain is immense – was absent and abroad;

By the curses with which he, the father, will darkly curse

what is a marriage, not – like a prison – a punishment. (120)

Either I shall die before my time and in my youthful year be blotted out,

Or I will be your wife and you, Draco, a husband to me!


End file.
